


In this new skin that we have grown

by Beleriandings



Series: It changes you [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Audio Fix-It 03: The House of the Dead, Comfort Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Poly Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mortal Jack Harkness, Multi, Pregnancy, Queer Families, Relationship Development, Series 03 Fix-It: Children of Earth (Torchwood)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:21:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28948092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: After the House of the Dead, Gwen and Rhys bring Jack and Ianto home.
Relationships: Gwen Cooper/Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones/Rhys Williams, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: It changes you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123109
Comments: 20
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the direct sequel to my fic _You won't be seeing us today (you won't be seeing us in hell)_ , linked in the series; I recommend you read that first, since this essentially picks up where it left off. However, if you don't want to, the pertinent details are that 1) Gwen saved Ianto from Syriath in the House of the Dead, and 2) Jack gave up his immortal life force to save Gwen, and is now mortal. That's probably it! I hope you enjoy!

They stayed up for a while that first night, seeing to bandaging Jack’s hand, talking and drinking the last of their cold pot of tea, topping it up with more water until Ianto complained that it wasn’t good anymore and Gwen laughed tearily at him.

By the time they were finally ready to go to bed it was early morning, the cloudy sky beginning to lighten just very slightly through the gap in the curtains.

As Rhys unfolded the extra blankets and pillows he’d brought down to the living room for Jack and Ianto – until they could find them somewhere better to sleep – there was a moment of stillness, Gwen standing between the two of them not quite knowing what to do. She felt a great, tender _something_ expanding in her chest, was the thing; standing here, in the room with the three men she loved most in the world. All safe, all with her. She didn’t ever want to be without any of them.

Rhys straightened up, meeting her eye; in his gaze, she saw a gentle smile. And in that smile she read acknowledgement, understanding of what she wanted; sometimes, Rhys understood what she was feeling better than she did, or at least sooner.

Still; if he had worked it out, Gwen was sure she would too, soon enough. She returned his smile, grateful, then looked back at Ianto. It was still surreal seeing him here, very much alive and reaching up to slip Rhys’s cable knit jumper off over his head to sleep, Jack helping him with a sleeve.

That was something: tomorrow, or soon at least, they’d need to get Ianto some clothes of his own. All of Ianto’s remaining possessions had been packed away into boxes and given to Rhiannon when his flat had been cleaned out. Gwen knew, because she’d done it herself, wanting to make sure there wasn’t anything compromising or Torchwood-related in there. For Ianto’s sake, the last gift she could give him. Or so she’d thought.

Besides that, the suit that Ianto had been wearing when Syriath had plucked him from death to emerge at the House of the Dead had been ruined, torn and covered in plaster dust as the pub had crumbled into the Rift, nearly taking him with it. And anyway, it had been the one he’d been buried in; Gwen didn’t think Ianto actually knew that, but as soon as they’d got him home she’d bustled him off to change into some of Rhys’s spare clothes, which she’d bundled into his arms along with a few other small things she thought he might need. Though none of the clothes fit exactly right, he’d seemed to very much appreciate the effort.

Gwen felt a rush of affection as she watched Ianto take the jumper off, his hair sticking up at one side with it. On impulse, she went over to him again, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck and pulling him down into a hug; he turned into it, taken a little by surprise but not drawing back, and she pressed kisses to his face, to his cheeks and his forehead and at last his mouth, leaning her weight against him and pouring her relief into the kisses.

She wasn’t worried that Rhys would mind; not now, not after that look of absolute understanding that had passed between them before.

And oh, maybe _this_ was what it had been about.

When she drew back Ianto was blinking, staring at her; behind him, she saw Jack frown slightly, though he was half-smiling as though he was working something out in his head. Before he could say anything though, she grinned, going over to him and putting her hand under his chin, kissing him on the lips too. It was swift and impulsive, not unlike that kiss on her first day on the job, after he’d saved Carys, and he came away from it looking just about as blindsided as he had that first time. In every other sense but the superficial, though, that day felt lifetimes away; there was so much more between them all now, so much history and heartbreak and growth, understanding and trust underlying it all and binding their four hearts fast together.

But still. For a moment they all stood there looking at each other, and the silence in the room was… _well_. Not tense, as such, but _full_ , as though they were all waiting for something to happen.

But not tonight, Gwen realised. Jack had waited so long for this; she had to let him have his night with Ianto, to set everything to rights again, everything that he hadn’t said, that he thought he’d done wrong. Everyhing that had driven him away from her and all around the world in the first place, that had nearly driven him to throw himself into the Rift, the silly man.

And so she drew back, letting the strangeness pass. She smiled back at Jack and the rather stunned look on his face. “So you won’t get jealous,” she said by way of explanation, reaching down to kiss Ianto on the cheek once more and squeeze his hand. She smiled, offering Rhys her arm. “Try and sleep, and if not, at least don’t get into any more life-threatening situations today, yeah?” she said over her shoulder, leading Rhys towards the door up to the narrow stairs. “I know you two.”

Behind her, she heard Jack laugh softly. “We’ll try not to. Goodnight.”

“It’s morning,” Ianto pointed out.

“So it is.”

As she went, she thought she saw Rhys looking back over her shoulder, just on the edge of her peripheral vision.

Gwen felt restless as she pulled Rhys up the stairs to their bedroom, impatient, everything that had happened tonight cycling through her mind too fast and all at once.

But mostly, she _wanted_.

Here was the thing: during most of her pregnancy so far, she’d cycled unpredictably through bouts of feeling nauseous, craving sex, and intense periods of grief for her old life and the people in it, so intense that it sometimes felt as though she couldn’t breathe. Now, two of those people had been given back to her, and didn’t seem likely to leave again. Her nausea had now mostly deserted her earlier on too, _and_ _so_ …

“Rhys,” she said, pausing him in their bedroom doorway.

“What is it, love? What do you need?” His hand came up to brush through the side of her hair, concerned; Rhys had been more worried about what she’d done tonight than he was trying to let show, she realised guiltily.

“You,” she said succinctly, pushing him back against the doorframe in a hard kiss, only impeded a little by her bump.

He kissed her back, hands going up to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair before he broke away, staring at her in the dim light filtering down the hallway from the living room. “Oh, love. We’ve had an exhausting day, a lot’s happened. Shouldn’t you rest, and–”

“No,” said Gwen shortly, kissing him again, more demanding now. This time he leaned into it a bit more, arms around her waist, hands clutching at her lower back, bunching in the fabric of her shirt.

“Mmm… _Gwen_ …” he muttered against her skin, and _oh_ , she loved him. “You were amazing today. What you did...”

“Shh… Rhys...” She frowned, realising right there and then that she didn’t really want to talk about what had happened today, much less think about it. At least not right now; all she wanted was to chase away the residual strangeness with something familiar, to feel loved and comforted and to lose herself with Rhys before falling asleep. When she woke up, Jack and Ianto would still be there in their living room and everything would feel better, more real.

So she just kissed him silent, pulling him into their room and turning him so his back was to the bed. She pushed him down, climbing astride him; this was one of so many things that were harder at this stage of pregnancy, but the doctors she’d seen – with utmost secrecy, under false identities to protect herself, and Rhys, and their unborn child – had all said that sex was fine and actually might help her feel better, though she might want it less, closer to the end. As it was she hadn’t yet hit that stage, the fierce and wanting part of her was still crying out for the touch of skin. To be held and to come under Rhys’s hands that knew her so well.

And tonight, even more so. She began undoing the buttons of Rhys’s shirt, even as he pressed his face to her chest, kissing her breasts and moaning against her skin. She could feel him getting hard against her thigh, and made short work of his shirt and his trousers, throwing the clothes impatiently to the ground.

“Mmmm...” she grasped his sides, fingers clenching in the flesh there and helping him sit up, bringing him up to lean against the headboard. In truth, she was getting a little tired of the same position but it was the easiest one, at least until the baby was born.

And Rhys knew the drill too, as she took hold of his cock, impatient to have him inside her, the familiar feeling of it; she felt his hands come up and press against her clit, rubbing her until she was wet, if she hadn’t been already.

It was easy to sink down on him, kneeling astride his hips to give herself the leverage and control. She gasped, as he pulled her against him, mouth on her nipples one and then the other, paying attention to her chest and throat. It was awkward, with the way her body felt different, odd. But it was welcome, and familiar and comforting, and she loved him more than she could say.

“Rhys….” Gwen sighed, as his hand came up to touch her clit, slipping up and down between it and place where his cock went into her, his fingers on the sensitive strip of skin between making her arch her back and shudder with pleasure, grinding her hips back and forth.

She sighed, leaning forward against him and trying to think only of this; not of the horrors they had seen today, not of Jack and Ianto and what the future may hold. Nor of the fear she had that when their daughter was born, Gwen might still very well let her down.

No, none of that for now; just this. It was as Gwen was thinking this that she felt her orgasm rush through her, all at once; she shuddered against Rhys, whispering incoherent words of love against the side of his head, his hair sweaty where it met his temple.

A moment later he was following along with her, crying out her name as he came inside her, and Gwen’s heart all but broke with how much she loved him.

Some time later, they lay curled together in bed, listening to the quiet of their little house in the night.

From downstairs, Gwen thought she could hear a very faint thump, the sound of voices; she smiled to herself. Ianto and Jack had apparently worked things out between them, then; good. It was what they both deserved.

Gwen sighed, as Rhys’s arm tightened around her. It was morning now, the light creeping in through the window. It had been less than twelve hours since she’d woken up from that dream, the dream that had told her about Syriath and Jack and Ianto. The dream that had made her drag Rhys to their car to get back what had been taken from her.

How it had changed everything, Gwen thought as she dropped off into darkness, Rhys spooned at her back with his lips pressed to her neck. Nothing would ever be the same now.

But perhaps, she thought, just as she slipped into peaceful sleep, perhaps after all, that was okay.

* * *

Ianto came out of the bathroom and out into the hallway, dressed in borrowed pyjamas. He felt a lot better now he’d showered off the last of the plaster dust, not to mention chasing away the last of the fetid cold of the memory of Syriath’s deathly grip on him, washing it clean with hot water and soap.

He paused for just a moment in the hallway, twitching to alertness as he heard a sound from the adjoining room; a moment later he shook himself, realising it was only the rhythmic squeaking of Gwen and Rhys’s bed springs from their room. Torchwood must have made him overly twitchy. But then again he thought, given that he actually had died in its service, that might well be justified.

Still, he was glad that Gwen and Rhys were able to find comfort in each other. He felt a deep stirring of something in his chest; he wanted that too, he couldn’t wait to get back to Jack and, assuming Jack was amenable, fuck him deep into the sofa cushions as the sun rose on a new day.

But it wasn’t just that. There was something else he wanted, some _ache_ that was lingering just beyond the edge of his conscious mind.

Ianto shook his head, smiling at the sound of breathy cries coming from Gwen and Rhys’s room, and started down the stairs.

When he came back into the living room, Jack was already there, having spread out the pillows and blankets Rhys had brought out for them for tonight on the sofa. Jack was already shirtless, dressed only in boxers.

But Ianto barely had time to admire the expanse of Jack’s smooth skin, because as soon as he came in the door, Jack whirled about, as though in alarm. A moment later though, Jack relaxed, smiling widely and bounding over with his hands held out to take Ianto’s. But before Jack got close enough to touch him he paused, as though suddenly, uncharacteristically, nervous.

Ianto rolled his eyes, reaching for Jack. “Come here,” he said, pulling Jack into a deep kiss. He drew back, raising his eyebrows at Jack, dropping his voice low. “I’ve wanted you ever since we missed our chance in that warehouse.”

“...Those damn beans,” said Jack with a nod, wiping away an errant tear.

Ianto smiled. “Yeah. But this time Rhys and Gwen are very distracted.” He chuckled, a little nervously. “Sorry, um. Didn’t mean to bring all that up. It must’ve been much worse for…” he broke off, seeing Jack’s lip trembling, feeling immediately guilty. “Jack...”

Jack didn’t answer, merely stared at his face, arms draped around his neck; there was something desperate about the way he was looking at him. As though if he looked away even for a second, Ianto might disappear entirely.

Clearly, this was not the right approach here.

“Jack...” said Ianto, gently bringing his arms around Jack’s middle, helping him sit down on the edge of the sofa. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think...” mentally, he kicked himself. Of course Jack would be like this, after everything that had happened; Ianto had been _dead_ , for God’s sake. The memories of the House of the Dead were ebbing back too, the way Jack had been then; it felt odd and somehow distant, as though there was a grey pall of death over the whole thing, mostly sense and emotion, or as though it had happened in a dream.

But still, he could vividly recall some parts of it. Including the way Jack had looked at him, devastated and hurting, ready to fling himself into the void rather than live forever without Ianto.

Ianto’s heart ached, leaning forward to kiss Jack again, more softly; after all, he’d always been better at comforting him that way that with words, hadn’t he? He’d never been good at words. Dying had forced his hand, set him pleading for Jack’s reassurance, but that hadn’t been a comfort to either of them, had it? Whenever he tried to tell Jack how he felt he seemed to start going about it all wrong.

And so, he did what he knew best; he kissed Jack, firm and simple and grounding.

This time Jack gasped into his mouth, lips parting to let his tongue in deep. Ianto let himself melt into Jack’s arms around his waist, pulling him close, as close as he possibly could. They kissed slowly, unhurried in the pallid grey light of the living room; Ianto wanted Jack, yes, wanted to drive away the horrors of the day and celebrate the start of their new lives, but he didn’t feel the need to rush. He wanted to savour this, draw it out and feel every bit of it.

But a moment later, as he pulled back a little, he realised Jack was crying, tears dampening the place where their cheeks met. Ianto blinked, slightly alarmed, putting his hand on Jack’s forearm and pulling him close to him on the sofa. “ _Jack_ ,” he said. “Jack, what’s wrong?”

Jack merely stared at him as though unable to speak for a moment, in which time Ianto realised just how redundant a question it was; of course Jack was feeling overwhelmed. Ianto had died, six months ago for him. Today he’d been brought back, and Jack himself had lost his immortality, and they’d closed the Rift they’d guarded for so long, and that wasn’t even the half of it; nothing would ever be the same. And though Ianto was happy – and desperately relieved – with the way things had turned out, it was certainly a lot to deal with at once. Much more so for Jack than for him, he thought guiltily. Jack had probably been holding this in for six months, trying to be brave and cope on his own, if Ianto knew him at all.

Clearly, this had been building for some time.

He wondered if Jack had even let himself cry, or let himself rest.

“Listen, Jack,” he said, a little reluctantly. “Maybe… we should try to get some sleep...”

“No!” Jack grabbed his arm, beginning to sob in earnest now. “N-no, I’ll be fine, just… stay...”

Ianto’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Jack’s voice; he sighed, shuffling up close against Jack on the sofa and pulling his head against his chest. “Shhh…” he said. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Well, no, you’re not okay, but you will be… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ianto...” wept Jack. “You were _dead_. I couldn’t even tell you I loved you, and you died, and now you’re back because of Gwen, but I was so… so _stupid_ … so wrong. And I am so, _so_ sorry.”

“Shh, stop that. You weren’t wrong,” soothed Ianto, fingers stroking through Jack’s hair as Jack clung to the front of his t-shirt, already damp with tears. Gently, he helped Jack lie down on the sofa, following along with him to keep holding him close.

Ianto paused for a moment, propping himself up on his arms over Jack, looking down over him. Suddenly, he was very aware indeed that though for him it had been so little time, for Jack it had been six months since Ianto had died in his arms in Thames House. Six months, in which that haunted look he’d seen in the House of the Dead had made its home in Jack’s eyes. Now, Jack was peering up at him with heartbreaking candour, eyes never leaving his face even for a moment.

Ianto closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss him; as their lips met Jack let out a soft, breathy sound, impossibly vulnerable as his hand came up to grasp the back of Ianto’s neck, pull him closer, closer–

Then Jack gasped, more with surprise than pain. Still, Ianto drew back sharply, as Jack wrenched his hand away; he saw the bandaged palm and thumb and remembered, just as – he assumed – Jack had.

“Sorry,” said Ianto, kissing Jack’s exposed knuckles softly. “I forgot.”

Jack just shook his head, dismissing this. “ _Ianto_ ,” he said, reaching up and cupping Ianto’s face, hands going to his cheeks, slipping down to his throat, touching his chest and his sides as though making sure he was real. His eyes were tear-bright in the dim light. “I _missed_ you...”

Ianto smiled, feeling tears come to his own eyes. “Well, I’m back now,” he told Jack firmly, trying to keep a brave face; he thought if he started crying now, he would never stop. Or Jack wouldn’t. He was the one who had been dead for all that time after all – six months! For him it had been two days! – and Jack had grieved him, in his own hurt, self-blaming way.

Oh, God, he had been _dead_. Ianto blinked back to awareness at the feeling of Jack’s hand on his arm, fingers clasping his bicep in a firm, grounding grip.

“Ianto… Ianto! You still with me?”

“Y-yeah...” he said, shaking his head and fixing his gaze back on Jack’s upturned face, so familiar and dear to him. He had a very vivid, tear-blurred memory of Jack peering down at him as Ianto lay in his arms on a cold flagstone floor, his awareness fading away as time ran out, and–

“Ianto...” Jack sat up, pulling Ianto close into his arms; this was when Ianto realised he was crying too, the tears dropping down to wet Jack’s shirt. Ianto went gladly as Jack pulled him close, holding him very, very tight; Ianto breathed in the familiar smell of him, listening to his heartbeat.

Ianto brought his hand up to touch Jack’s bare chest, but halted for a moment, palm over his heart; he could feel Jack’s heartbeat, strong and fast with anticipation. But where before the beat of it had been a fact of the universe, now it felt like a ticking clock, a beat that one day – hopefully a long time from now – would stop.

Ianto blinked, realising all at once that this was probably exactly how Jack had felt about him, before. Not wanting Jack to think his hesitation was out of reluctance – and it really, _really_ wasn’t – Ianto slipped his hand up to Jack’s throat, cradling his head and kissing him again. He could still taste the salt of Jack’s tears on his face. He knew they weren’t tears of sorrow, more of a simple overflow of emotion, relief and joy and the flooding forth of a held-back well of pain. But still, he meant to drive them away; Jack must have had too many tears, too much sorrow in his time.

A moment later he kissed Jack again, this time hard and demanding, hoping it could convince Jack better than words could of what he wanted to say; _you’ve got me back. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving you again_.

It seemed to be working; Jack moaned into his mouth again, and Ianto could feel him getting hard against his thigh, grinding against the place where he knelt over Jack.

“Ianto...” breathed Jack, staring up at him like he was all that mattered in the universe, “I want you in me… I want to feel it tomorrow.”

Ianto blinked; oh yes, that was another thing wasn’t it? Jack’s body was mortal now, so aches and bruises and the pleasant soreness of having been fucked hard and well would linger on him, rather than fading away before he woke. And Jack _wanted_ that, wanted Ianto to make him feel that. It made Ianto’s heart do something impossibly affectionate.

Ianto nodded; he wanted this too, his own cock hard and aching at Jack’s words alone. The last time they’d done this had been in Ianto’s flat, before… well, everything. Ianto had wanted him the whole time they were in the warehouse, couldn’t stop thinking about him in the rare moments they’d got to rest during that chaotic, nightmarish week. He’d wanted the comfort of Jack’s hands on him, wanted to bring him somewhere safe when it was all over, but then it had been too late, hadn’t it? He’d died.

He’d _died_. The realisation was only just staring to sink in. Ianto assumed there had been others for Jack during the intervening time – God, he hoped there had been, because the last thing he’d wanted in the event of his death was to have Jack shut himself away, and the implications of Jack shying away from sex and touch entirely were usually dire.

But it didn’t matter now; all that mattered was this.

Ianto smiled, mouth curving against Jack’s as he leaned down to kiss him again, cramped up on the sofa and taking care not to fall flat on top of Jack. After he’d awkwardly kicked the last of his own clothes to the floor he helped Jack off with his boxers, slipping his hand down to palm his cock for a moment, just to show he wasn’t going far. Jack bucked upwards into the touch, needy and responsive and fully naked beneath him now, all but pulling Ianto down on top of him.

“Stop squirming, Jack. Just a minute.” Ianto went to the chest of drawers beside the sofa and scrabbled about a bit until he pulled out the tube of lube that Gwen had given into his hands with a solemn look earlier, behind which she’d not quite been able to mask her giggle; they knew each other too well by this point, anticipated each other’s needs perfectly.

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Well prepared around here.”

“That’s nothing,” said Ianto. “You should see the collection of toys those two’re building up in the box under their bed. ...Were. Probably still are, I assume? ...Gwen and I talked about a _lot_ , back in those days,” he said, by way of explanation.

Jack stared wonderingly for a moment, gaze glazing over – _speculatively?_ Ianto wondered – before his eyes went back to Ianto again, peering up at him with needy tenderness. “So…? Are you going to use it, or…?”

Ianto sighed, leaning down to part Jack’s thighs. But Jack had done it already, spreading himself wide for Ianto. The angle was awkward, pressed together on the cramped sofa piled high spare with bedding. Still, after a short while, Ianto managed to shove the extra cushions and blankets off and make them a comfortable place, stuffing a cushion under Jack’s back and kneeling in between his legs as Jack arched his back, thrusting his hips up impatiently.

Finally he had Jack so he was lying across the arm of the sofa, one leg drawn upwards against the back of it, the other hanging to the floor with one of the cushions folded up under the small of his back. The sight alone was erotic enough the Ianto’s mouth was dry just looking.

Jack didn’t have much leverage to move, spread open like that. But tonight, Ianto sensed, he’d be the one setting the pace.

Except Jack seemed to have other ideas. As Ianto squeezed out some of the lube on his hand and began to finger Jack open, Jack’s hand was on his cock and Ianto didn’t have the heart to stop him, to tell him to pace himself. All he could do was hold on, but it was hard, with how painfully turned on he felt, emotionally overwrought into the bargain.

He suspected this would be quick for both of them anyway, full of tears and desperation. After a little while he added another finger, wringing a sound from Jack that was half a growl and half a whine.

“Shhh.” Ianto smiled, straightening up and kissing Jack, and brought the head of his slicked-up cock up to begin to push inside him at last.

Jack groaned, rising on something that might have been an whimper.

“ _Oh..._ did I hurt you?” said Ianto, immediately freezing as he wondered how different Jack’s body was now, how careful he’d need to be with him. And there was Jack’s injured hand too, maybe he’d–

But Jack was shaking his head, sweat breaking on him as he tried to shift his hips with impatience. “No, Ianto,” he said. “I just… missed this, that’s all.”

“Oh.”

“Deeper,” said Jack, clearly trying to make it sound like a command but landing closer to cajoling. “Move.”

Ianto was happy to oblige, beginning to thrust slowly until he was deep inside Jack, holding him by the waist and pushing inside the heat of him. Jack didn’t _feel_ different at least, he felt as familiar as he always had. And yet, something was….

“Ianto,” said Jack, bringing a hand up to wipe tears off his face. “Ianto. Please. Fuck me…”

“I was almost certain I already was,” muttered Ianto, but began to thrust harder, deeper, at the precise angle he had perfected so that he had Jack gasping on every stroke.

Jack was losing his composure, grabbing at Ianto’s hair, his sides, head falling back on the arm of the sofa. Ianto dropped his head down and kissed Jack’s chest, his exposed throat. But before he could get far Jack raised his head again and kissed Ianto’s lips, drinking him in as though he’d been dying of thirst. Ianto sighed into his mouth, not letting up in his slow thrusts. All the while he kept his hands firm on Jack; _I’ve got you._ _I’m here_.

It was getting properly light now, and the dim cloudy-grey light of early morning filtering in from the window drew the colour from everything, lending it the odd, hypnotic sense of a dream. Jack was almost incoherent now, legs coming up around Ianto’s waist to pull him in even closer, tears on his face as Ianto fucked him slow and deep.

It happened suddenly; Jack’s cock was trapped between them, sliding against the sweat of their skin, and Ianto was just in time to bring his hand up as he felt Jack tense and arch, and heat spurt against his skin a moment later, catching the last in his hand and tugging Jack through the aftershocks as Jack came with a broken shout.

“ _Iant_ _o_ …” he gasped, eyes bleary as he met Ianto’s gaze again. “I love you… oh, hnn… _ah_ , I love you… p-please don’t ever leave me again, Ianto, _Ianto_...”

Ianto was already leaning down to kiss the words from his lips; the combination of the feeling of Jack’s tight, spasming heat around him and… well, everything else, had Ianto coming a mere moment later, biting down on Jack’s lower lip and groaning against his skin, squeezing his eyes closed against the burn of tears there.

As he pulled out of Jack at last, he looked down at him seriously, leaning down to place a very gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I love you too, Jack. And don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

* * *

Rhys was lying staring at the light filtering through the curtains, growing steadily brighter in the dimness of their bedroom. In front of him, Gwen was asleep and snoring softly, curled up on her side; over her time with Torchwood, Gwen had perfected the ability to sleep like a log while she could, and it was still serving her well these days. Gently, he brought his hand up over her hip, passing over the line where her pyjamas stopped onto the smooth warmth of her skin, tight and curved over her bump. Not long now; soon there’d be a whole new person in their life, a new member of their little family. It filled Rhys with both pure anticipatory joy and utter terror.

Especially after today. And Gwen, he knew, was even more afraid than he was. Afraid of the kind of world this was that they would bring their child into: the kind that was cruel, the kind that took and took until there was nothing left.

Except today, it hadn’t.

Today, Gwen had pulled Ianto and Jack back from the brink out of pure determination, brought them home where it was safe, and when Rhys had seen her do that he’d suddenly understood several things all at once.

Something had returned to Gwen’s eyes, was the thing, a light that he hadn’t quite realised had faded after Ianto’s death, after Jack had upped and left. But now they were back, and Gwen looked… well. _Happy_.

He’d thought, once, that the thing that made Gwen complete was Torchwood, and maybe it was, but now he wondered if it was the two men currently sleeping on the cramped little sofa in their living room, at least until they could come to some more permanent arrangement.

Not that he was averse to that. Once, Rhys might have claimed he was, but he had to admit he had missed both of them fiercely himself.

Life was definitely more fun when they were around, was the thing.

There was Jack with his loud laugh and his loud everything, and his showboating and his stupid dramatic coat, and there was Ianto with his quiet smiles and dry remarks and the way that sometimes he’d just blindside you by knowing what you wanted – or needed – before you knew it yourself, whether that was a coffee or a listening ear or to be bailed out of a bad situation. And the way that Gwen lit up around the two of them… once, Rhys might have felt jealous. Now, he just felt deeply and profoundly grateful, and what’s more, he understood on a deep level that just because Gwen loved Jack and Ianto too, it didn’t mean she loved Rhys any less. Gwen’s heart was too big, too ferociously, expansively _loving_ for it ever to be a matter of choosing one person alone; it was half the reason he loved her so much in the first place. She made him want to believe that he could love like that too, like it was the only thing that really mattered.

Gwen stirred and snuffled a bit in her sleep and Rhys pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, gently stroking her hair aside. This seemed to soothe her, and she relaxed. Rhys hoped she wasn’t having a nightmare. Gwen deserved her rest, had seen enough horrors and fought enough battles to last many lifetimes.

She didn’t wake, and seemed to settle again. Rhys smiled, pressing another kiss to her warm skin. He found himself suddenly restless, listening to the silence in the house.

Earlier, he’d heard the telltale moans and the squeaking of the sofa from the living room, and he’d been glad for them; Jack and Ianto had certainly spent enough of the time since they’d brought them back here looking like they wanted to get each other’s clothes off. There had been another kind of tension between them too, that Rhys wasn’t quite able to identify – Rhys still wasn’t that good at putting names to things like that, but it hung heavy with the weight of unsaid things – but Rhys suspected, or hoped, that they’d managed to resolve that too.

Either way, the house had fallen silent now. Too silent, actually, the stillness pressing in around him, hardly broken by Gwen’s sleep-breathing.

It was no good; he didn’t think he’d be able to get back to sleep now. Quietly, taking great care not to wake Gwen, he got out of bed, pressing a kiss to Gwen’s sleeping forehead, pulling on his dressing gown that hung on the back of the door and putting on his slippers before padding quietly out of the bedroom and into the hallway, tiptoeing down the stairs. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, leaning his hip against the rail and staring at the wood grain of the living room door, beside him and to the right.

Edging forward and opening the door just a crack, Rhys peered through very cautiously; he didn’t want to witness anything that the two of them would’ve rather kept private.

But he did just want to check; to check on these men that somewhere along the way he’d come to care about so very much, he was starting to realise.

He peered through the crack in the door, seeing stillness in the room and opening it a little further. He smiled, as he took in the scene in front of him.

Jack was lying on his back on the sofa, his head resting on one arm of it and his feet hanging over the other end. Ianto was lying half on top of him, wedged in too small a space between Jack and the back cushions of the sofa. His head was pillowed on Jack’s shoulder and his arm and leg curled over and around him, under the spare blanket that Ianto had bunched in his hand and was tugging up around them both in his sleep. Jack’s bandaged hand lay on top of the blanket, resting on his chest amidst the protective curl of Ianto’s body.

Rhys smiled, relieved and affectionate, as he watched the sleepy rise and fall of their chests.

Still here. Still alive.

Rhys stood there watching them for a while, mind drifting to unexpected places; now that he was sure they were all right, the thoughts that were coming were… not wholly what he’d expected. Though if he was honest, not wholly unexpected either.

The thing was: Rhys had always thought of himself as your standard, heterosexual bloke. He loved Gwen whole-heartedly, with all of himself. Every day he wondered what he’d done to deserve such an amazing, fiercely compassionate, and frankly smoking hot wife who literally saved the world on a regular basis, who loved him back, and had chosen him over all the other men in the world. And Gwen was _enough_ for him. Not that he hadn’t had cause to question that a few times, specifically where Torchwood was concerned.

But he couldn’t deny that there was just something about having Jack and Ianto in their house, living in such close proximity to him, that made Rhys imagine... things. It had been the same when they’d all been living together in the warehouse – though obviously then they’d had bigger concerns, and after… Rhys shuddered, eyes going back to the two of them on the sofa, listening to them breathe in the quiet. Suddenly, he found himself wanting to go over to them, to lay his hand on the side of Ianto’s head and run his fingers through his hair. Perhaps to tuck the trailing end of the blanket back around Jack’s feet. He blinked. Where had that come from?

Perhaps, Rhys thought with a sigh, it had been building for a while.

He was just about to close the door and go back up to bed, to think about this with a little more distance and a clearer head, when he felt a warm hand on his back.

He started just a little, turning and then relaxing as he saw Gwen come up beside him to the bottom of the stairs; Torchwood had made her eerily good at sneaking up without being heard. He supposed that was just an essential skill you learned when you caught aliens for a living.

Gwen followed his gaze into the living room to Jack and Ianto wrapped around each other. “They’re always cutest when they’re sleeping,” she quipped, eyes glittering with amusement.

“Bloody adorable,” agreed Rhys, nodding sagely.

Gwen laughed. He smiled at her until he caught her slightly knowing look, following his gaze back through the crack in the door and then flicking her eyes back at him. He frowned, and she laughed quietly, shaking her head at him.

“Oh, Rhys,” she said, reaching down and squeezing his hand. She drew him down to sit with her on the bottom step; from here, they could both still get a small sliver of a view of the living room, enough to just make out the top of Ianto’s head pressed up against Jack’s chin where they lay on the sofa. Gwen held his hand, interlacing their fingers. “I suppose we should find somewhere for them, in the morning,” she said, with slight reluctance.

“It is the morning,” pointed out Rhys. It was true, the sun had already risen behind the clouds, but it was obvious even to him how he was stalling for time.

Because this discussion, he knew, had been building ever since they’d brought Jack and Ianto home with them, since Gwen had kissed them goodnight and their eyes had met and Rhys had _known_.

“Well, we all need the extra sleep,” said Gwen.

Rhys nodded, gesturing through the door. “That sofa’s too small for them.”

“They seem to be doing okay,” said Gwen, slightly hesitantly; Rhys was pretty sure they weren’t necessarily talking about living room furniture and the logistics of two men sleeping on it anymore, but he wanted to establish parameters first; these were uncharted waters, after all.

Or, perhaps he could get right to it; they’d spent enough time, in Gwen’s early days at Torchwood, avoiding multiple elephants in the room, and Rhys had learned it was rarely productive. “Well...” he said, meeting her eye. “In that case… you know. We could, um.” He coughed. “Ask them if they wanted to join us.”

Gwen’s head came up to meet his gaze abruptly, all wide eyes as she scrutinised his face. Trying to discern if he was joking, he suspected. He made an effort to show her his most earnest face; he meant what he said, after all.

“ _Rhys_...” said Gwen, blinking rapidly. “As in...”

“Yep. ...I mean, if you wanted...”

Gwen’s eyes were huge. “Well, obviously only if _you_ wanted…”

“I’m just, ah, glad to have them back, y’know?!”

Gwen snorted. “No bloody kidding!”

“And I know you, you want...” he tailed off. “Those kisses earlier… I thought...”

Gwen laid a hand on his arm, going serious. “You were right,” she said.

“Well then.” They were silent for a moment more, Rhys feeling himself blush; this was outside his usual realm of experience. Then again, so many things about his life with Gwen were, and he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather share them with, but… still. “I… I mean,” he stammered. “Really what it comes down to is, if _they_ wanted...” he frowned. “We could, um. Start gentle...” he felt himself blushing, at the amused grin that was spreading across her face. “Um, you know, since I… I’ve never… and since you’re pregnant, well, we could just, you know, start with the basics...”

“Oh, an introductory course? Sex with your wife’s former coworkers, one-oh-one?”

“...Something along those lines, yes?”

Gwen giggled, stuffing the long sleeve of her pyjama shirt over her mouth to stifle her laughter, so as not to wake Jack and Ianto. “Aw, Rhys. I love you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you laughing at me, by any chance?”

She stifled a guffaw. “I dunno where you got that idea.” When her laughter subsided a little, she put her arm around him where they sat on the stairs, leaning into his side and kissing the side of his jaw. “Can’t believe you’ve been nursing secret bisexual feelings this whole time.”

“Hard bloody not to, around here!” said Rhys, slightly defensively.

Gwen rolled her eyes. “Well, you could’ve told me, eh? Even… y’know. _Before_ .” She sobered for a moment, at even the implicit but understood reference to _then_ , that fearful week that luckily now felt more distant than ever. “Okay,” she said, patting his arm gently. “Okay, well then, tomorrow we’ll talk to Jack and Ianto.”

He put his arm around her and squeezed her arm, leaning his head against hers. “Tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was awakened by the smell of toast and coffee.

For a moment he felt disorientated, having no idea where he was. Why was he on a sofa? How had he–

 _Oh_. Just like that, Jack remembered everything, and sat up so abruptly he almost gave himself whiplash, craning around and hardly daring to hope.

“...Ianto?” he said in a small voice. “Gwen? Rhys?”

“Here,” said a familiar voice from behind him. Ianto, dressed in pyjamas, his hair sleep-rumpled. “Coffee? I’m afraid the machine here isn’t much to write home about–”

“Oi!” he heard Gwen’s familiar voice call from the kitchen. “I heard that, Ianto!”

“And what? It’s true,” shot back Ianto, unconcerned, dropping a kiss on Jack’s forehead. Jack pushed himself up into a sitting position, seeing Ianto emerge from his peripheral vision with a tray holding a cup of coffee and a plate of toast; in truth, Jack still wasn’t entirely sure he wasn’t dreaming.

A moment later though, he winced as he felt a twinge of pain in his hand, raising it before his eyes to see it swathed in bandages.

Ianto frowned. “Does it hurt? That was a pretty deep wound, if you need stitches we can try to go to the hospital.”

“It’s okay, Ianto. I don’t need the hospital.”

“Okay.” Ianto frowned. “Oh! Also, you’re not going to like this but I’ve been thinking, now that you’re mortal, I think there are probably some vaccinations you’re missing.”

Jack frowned. “The Time Agency gave us all the standard universals, for travel to pre-nanogenic eras...”

But Ianto was not to be dissuaded. “Yes, and that was technically more than two thousand years and a lot of deaths ago, so I don’t think you should chance it. Now, I don’t have your full medical records on hand, because, well, they got blown up, but we should uh. Check that. I don’t want you getting sick, okay?” He ran a nervous hand through Jack’s hair, and _oh_ , Jack loved him. “Though we’ll need to be careful with false identities. Still, Gwen and Rhys have a few on hand, we can–”

“It’s okay,” interrupted Jack. “It’s fine, Ianto. I’m fine. We can worry about that later.”

He rolled his eyes at Ianto’s look. “Fine, fine, I can get all my shots at the same time the baby’s getting hers. Happy?”

Ianto raised a sceptical eyebrow, but relented, setting down the tray on the side table and leaning down to kiss Jack, evading his attempt to reach for him by pressing the plate of toast into his hands. “Eat,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “You’ve got no excuse now you’re not immortal anymore.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue, only for Ianto to bring up a piece of buttered toast and put it between his lips with impeccable timing. Jack snorted with laughter, choking a little and getting crumbs everywhere. Ianto sighed and shook his head, but he looked more affectionate than annoyed.

Jack chewed the toast – aware he was spraying out yet more crumbs – and swallowed. “Ianto...”

But at that moment, Gwen and Rhys came into the room, dressed to go out.

“Appointment with Gwen’s doctor, to check on the baby,” said Rhys, by way of explanation. He gave them a stern look, arm around Gwen’s waist. “Stay safe, you two. Don’t do anything stupid, eh?”

“We’d never!” protested Jack, only to hear Gwen snort incredulously.

“Okay, well. Just make sure you’re still here when we come back,” said Rhys, raising his eyebrow. “There’s _things_ we need to talk about, see?”

“Right you are, Rhys,” said Ianto, nodding. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Jack.”

Gwen nodded, coming over and swiftly kissing Ianto on the cheek. Then, she turned her attention to Jack, doing the same for him. “Stay safe, okay? ...And. Jack?”

Jack frowned at the sudden vulnerability in Gwen’s face. “Yeah?”

She slipped her hand into his, giving it a squeeze. “Please be here when we get back?”

“We will, Gwen. I promise, we’re not going anywhere.”

True to their word, they didn’t go out at all that day. In fact they didn’t do much apart from eat, and talk, and hold each other, and fuck on the sofa every now and then. Ianto didn’t seem to want to go very far from him, which was just fine with Jack.

For his own part, Jack was rather enjoying the slight ache left over from yesterday, exactly as he’d hoped. There was a bizarre and exciting sense of distantly-remembered novelty in that, as well as the stiffness of his muscles from being bent almost in half and sleeping in a cramped space after. Even more so, because these were things Ianto had given him. Things Ianto would be able to keep giving him for a long time to come. In the mid-afternoon, he persuaded Ianto to suck bruises all across his throat – not that much actual persuasion was required. Yes, being mortal again had certain novelties, and that was one of them, being able to carry the marks of Ianto’s love all day until they faded, at which point Ianto could do it all over again; there was also a matching set all down Jack’s hips and thighs that he was particularly proud of, and had very much enjoyed the process of Ianto bestowing on him. For the hours until dinner all he could think about was those marks Ianto had put on him, lingering under his clothes.

As the afternoon passed and the clouds began to draw in outside the windows, Jack began to feel hungry again and raided Gwen and Rhys’s fridge to make them ham and cheese omelettes and toast. While Jack was frying the eggs, Ianto came to his back, shirtless and warm, tucking his face into Jack’s neck and slipping his arms around his waist, and just held onto him.

It was almost enough to make Jack start crying again, right there in the kitchen.

Still, he managed to hold his tears back. He’d had enough tears; after a while they wore you out. And so evening found Jack lying with his head in Ianto’s lap on the sofa, as Gwen and Rhys got home. The doctors, apparently, had confirmed what Gwen had suspected; that everything seemed to be fine with the baby, and there was no cause for worry.

And so they were celebrating, at least as much as they could in their situation. Gwen and Rhys had brought takeaway pizza with them – a special treat, Rhys declared, because usually they hardly went out except for necessary medical appointments and to oversee the excavation of the Hub, being as they were supposed to be in hiding. Rhys had brought out a bottle of wine from under the sink for him and Ianto, since Gwen wasn’t drinking, and Jack didn’t feeling like touching a drop of alcohol after the few months he’d had. As it was, Ianto or Rhys had each had a glass or two, just enough to make Ianto a bit more talkative, quicker to smile and to laugh, to bring a gentle pink flush to Rhys’s cheeks. Not that they needed that; he could see the same pink on Gwen’s face, and realised it was not alcohol but simple happiness, the cosy familiarity of a warm room with good company, laughter and food and safety as the night drew in. Jack found himself swept up in it too, only now realising how frozen his heart had been, these last six months.

He’d missed this, missed moments of being safe and surrounded by family. Because that was what this was, wasn’t it? It felt warm and homey, and when they all sat around the table to eat, and it felt almost like their companionable team lunches – or odd scrounged-together three-AM meals of leftover takeaway after a long and exhausting mission, as the case often was – in the Hub, all the way back then. Enough at least to make Jack’s heart ache, reaching out to press his knee against Ianto’s under the table for reassurance.

After they were done, the four of them sat in front of the TV and watched the news; nothing of note, the House of the Dead being pulled into the Rift and out of existence entirely having been explained as a gas explosion. Jack suspected that this might have been Gwen’s doing, texting Andy to spread the story amongst the police. Or perhaps it was just regular human resistance to seeing the impossible. Either way, he was glad that there didn’t seem to be any kind of information clean-up operation for them to handle. They all needed the rest, after last night.

And it was peaceful, sitting squashed onto the sofa with Gwen and Rhys and Ianto beside him, Gwen’s legs over Rhys’s, sock-clad feet resting up against Ianto’s in the middle. Even Ianto was relaxed, completely at ease for once curled up between them with his head leaning on Jack’s chest. Jack was enjoying the feeling of letting his fingers card softly through Ianto’s ungelled hair, caressing without any intent and just holding him close.

In fact, it was so restful as to be almost hypnotic, to the point that Jack only realised at least half of his brain had fallen asleep when Gwen’s voice broke the silence.

“Jack? Ianto?”

“Mmm?”

Gwen glanced at Rhys, as though for reassurance. She seemed suddenly a little tense. Though not with fear, Jack thought. He’d seen Gwen afraid, and this was different. Nevertheless he was still a bit wary, and he knew Ianto was too, feeling his muscles tense fractionally where he lay over Jack.

“Rhys and I were… thinking last night. There’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

“It’s okay, Gwen. I was thinking the same,” said Ianto, straightening up.

Gwen blinked, turning to Rhys and raising her eyebrows at him with a slight laugh. “Oh, you were?”

“Wait, what were _you_ thinking, Ianto?” said Rhys, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“That Jack and I should think about getting out of your hair soon,” he said, and Jack was certain that the note of regret in his voice was well enough disguised that only he had detected it. Not that he was paying as much attention to that, as to the way Ianto had said _Jack and I_ , three words said so casually that it made Jack’s heart flutter in his chest.

“I mean, there’ll be some stuff to do first,” said Ianto, a little apologetically. “I’d like to borrow your laptop tomorrow if that’s okay Gwen, and try to get into the Torchwood Mainframe. I’m still legally dead, and my flat’s been sold, and… oh, God, I should probably talk to Rhiannon, let her know I’m alive after all...” he gritted his teeth, and Jack rather sympathised; that whole _surprise, you went to my funeral and grieved for me but actually I’m still alive!_ conversation was never a particularly easy one. Ianto frowned, taking Jack’s hand. “We… should also, um, talk about what we’re going to do now, Jack. Talk about… things, in general. If… if you want? But Gwen, Rhys, I wouldn’t want to impose on the two of you any longer, not with the baby on the way and… well. Everything. So for now, I reckon if I can forge a few documents, set up a new bank account, and...” he tailed off, seeing all their expressions. “That’s. That’s actually not what you were thinking at all, is it?”

Gwen looked at Rhys. Rhys met her gaze for a long, solemn second, before they both burst out laughing.

“ _What?!?_ ” said Ianto, looking a little put out.

“Oh, Ianto,” said Gwen, helpless with giggles. “Ah, sorry, it’s just...”

“We didn’t mean to chuck you out on the doorstep,” said Rhys. “Um. Sort of the opposite of that, actually...” he looked at Ianto, and then at Jack. “Both of you.”

Gwen nodded, her laughter subsiding, and that slight, uncharacteristic note of vulnerability entered her voice for the second time today. “We… wanted to ask you to… stay. With us.” he put her hand on Ianto’s knee. “If you want?”

And suddenly, Jack got it.

Ianto seemed to a moment later too, glancing up at Gwen’s hand on him, at Rhys’s held gaze, then craning around to look at Jack; he watched the pieces fall into place in real time behind Ianto’s eyes.  
  
Jack raised his eyebrows, trying to convey, _well I’m in if you are?_

“ _Oh_. Um.” said Ianto, blushing, his eyes glazing a little bit. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, that might be nice.”

“Oh, good,” said Gwen, her manner changing abruptly. She shuffled forward on the sofa so she was sitting on Rhys’s lap now, within touching distance of all of them. “Well, then...”

And just like that, she reached over and pulled Ianto into a long, hard kiss.

He came away from it flushed and breathing hard, and Jack felt the first stirring of arousal at the sight alone, just as he had yesterday. For a moment, they were all silent, staring at each other. Then Ianto shrugged, leaning forward to kiss Rhys, who froze against him for a moment, before melting into it.

 _Oh_ , Jack thought, as Gwen clambered off the sofa and edged around Ianto, to come and straddle Jack, _this day just kept getting better and better_.

* * *

It didn’t take them long to move this to Gwen and Rhys’s bedroom; far too little space to properly spread out on this sofa, as Jack and Ianto had found out last night. For four people, it would’ve been impossible.

Jack gave Ianto’s hand a final squeeze, just to let him know this didn’t have to change anything for him – for _them_ – as he let Gwen push him down on the double bed.

It wasn’t like Jack hadn’t had this fantasy many times before, was the thing; ever since he’d recruited Gwen to Torchwood he’d felt undeniably drawn to her, some part of him wanting to see her like this, to see her lose control. His attraction to Gwen had been different to his attraction to Ianto though, and when she’d chosen Rhys he’d accepted that, had let it fade out and eventually put it to rest. But, apparently, this was all it took to bring it back. And Rhys... Rhys was an attractive man too, and had come to be a good friend, however much they clashed; really, it was much more in play these days, than actual argument. For old time’s sake. Jack found himself suddenly extremely intrigued about what Rhys would be like in bed; again, not the first time he’d wondered that, if only in idle speculation.  
  
And with Ianto there too – in love with him, and both of them alive and planning a life together – Jack couldn’t wait for this. Ianto was familiar , and Jack thought he could trace every little scar and dimple and mark on his much-beloved body from memory. Gwen and Rhys too though … _well_. That was uncharted territory, and suffice it to say that he was looking forward to whatever tonight held.

“Wait.” They looked up to see Ianto looking slightly cautious, standing at the edge of the bed as Gwen pulled Rhys down beside them. “Um, is this… okay? In terms of the baby, and all that…?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “It’s definitely safe for the baby, and most things should be fine. Some positions don’t feel as good as they would when I’m not huge,” she said, wrinkling up her nose. “Just… be a bit gentle. I’ll yell at you, if it’s bad.”

“...Right-ho,” said Ianto, with endearing awkwardness.

“Basically, let Gwen call the shots for now,” said Rhys, nodding.

Jack smirked, reaching for Ianto. “I don’t think any of us were assuming anything else.”

Gwen grinned, sharp and wicked, grabbing a handful of the front of his shirt and pulling him into a scorching kiss. “Now, now. I’m gonna have to say nothing _too_ rough today, Jack Harkness,” she said. “Can’t speak for the future, mind…”

“Hah. Envisioning this as a regular occurrence, are we?”

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to see how we like you.”

Ianto, emboldened again by Gwen’s assurances, knelt on the edge of the bed too.

“Don’t worry,” said Ianto, a coy note creeping into his voice. “I’ll make sure he stays in line.”

Jack moaned, the words going straight to his cock. Gwen laughed, shaking her head, but Jack wasn’t watching her; he was watching Rhys, who was staring at the three of them with open lust.

Jack sat up, and went to kiss him. He wasn’t even sure if Rhys had kissed a man before tonight; probably not, he suspected. Still, after a moment in which he collected his wits under Jack’s onslaught, Rhys kissed back with fierce enthusiasm.

“Quick learner, huh?” said Jack, looking over at Gwen, who had tumbled Ianto down to the mattress and was kissing him thoroughly as he unbuttoned her shirt and helped her off with her bra.

“Oh, we both are,” said Gwen with a wink.

Jack chuckled, patting Rhys on the arse to show he meant to come back to him later, and then helped Gwen lie down, Ianto already on hand with a pillow for under her back; as she went she kissed Rhys, a reassuring hand caressing his cheek; something about that touch grasped at Jack’s heart and wouldn’t let go. When they broke apart, he watched Rhys take a deep breath, clearly given the courage he needed to lean across and kiss Ianto, boldly and with purpose. Jack felt his stomach drop at the sight, though not with anything close to jealousy; rather, the sight of Ianto kissing Rhys back, arms coming up to his shoulders in an exploratory fashion – but still careful, as though he didn’t want to give Rhys too much too soon and scare him off – made Jack’s cock stiffen, reacting to the sight of their lips moving together.

His eyes flicked to the side and met Gwen’s; her expression showed she was feeling more or less the same as he was, as they both watched intently.

Gwen’s hand had twitched to the front of her underwear almost unconsciously, and Jack took the hint; gently, he moved her hand aside and slipped his fingers down below the curve of her belly, pushing very softly against her folds. She was as wonderfully hot and wet as he’d always imagined she’d be – and yes, he had imagined this before – and she made a noise as he brought his fingers to her clit, shifting her hips to reposition herself and get a better angle, showing him where to touch her as they watched Rhys and Ianto kiss with slow, hypnotic rhythm.

Ianto drew back first, looking rather apprehensive; Jack could understand his trepidation, his worry that he might have scared Rhys off. Twenty-first century men could be like that, sometimes. Even Ianto had been a little like that at the very beginning.

But Rhys didn’t balk as he looked back at Ianto; there was a kind of burning intensity in his gaze that hadn’t been there before, as though he’d learned something very new and very interesting. His gaze swivelled away from Ianto then, to Jack where he was touching Gwen. Jack grinned back, as Rhys’s jaw slackened, pupils dilating a little. Rhys leaned forward to him – unconsciously? – and Jack leaned forward to meet him half way, his hand still on Gwen as he pulled Rhys into another demanding kiss, knowing from his expression alone that he’d be able to take it.

Rhys kissed him back, a little clumsily – though to be fair, he did seem a little overwhelmed right now, so Jack could understand – but with enthusiasm that made Jack’s heart quicken at the potential here, the thought of what it could become.

Grinning, Jack shuffled forwards – and he had to take his fingers off Gwen, but it was okay because they had plenty of time, despite it all – and pulled Rhys down on top of him, helping him peel his shirt off over his head; as he did so he saw Ianto staring down at him and gave him a smile too, hoping he understood that Jack hadn’t forgotten him. But Ianto had already shuffled past them, over to Gwen, before Jack closed his eyes, hands roaming across Rhys’s stomach, sinking into the softness there, exploring. Rhys’s eyes were on his chest, and Jack grinned as he realised his gaze was probably lingering on the mess of reddened marks and bruises that Jack had encouraged Ianto to leave on his skin earlier.

And now he got to have that every night, for the rest of his life. But not just that… this, too, the four of them, for as long as this lasted.

The thing was: Jack had slept with a number of people, during the six months that Ianto had been dead. But all of them had been brief, emotionless encounters, hands slipping under clothes in alleyways, angry, half-drunken sex in dark corners of bars, yelling the wrong name when he came and trying desperately just to _feel_ and then sobbing his heart out after, because it wasn’t _Ianto_.

Now, he had Ianto back and he was in bed with him and Rhys and Gwen, and Jack meant to take his time, meant to take care with them.

And so he brought Rhys up again so they were sitting, only to see Ianto and Gwen kissing at a leisurely pace against the headboard of the bed. Ianto was being extremely careful around Gwen, he saw; he supposed he was still wary of the baby, trying to take her at her word and be gentle. Jack felt love expand in his chest, warm and helpless and infinite at the way Ianto was so attentive, even as he slipped his hand between her thighs, dropping his head to kiss her shoulders and her breasts. The creamy skin of Gwen’s chest was as strewn with freckles as her face and arms were, just as Jack had imagined it would be. Jack hid a small smile as he watched Ianto’s lips on her skin; Jack had a smattering of freckles on his chest himself – not as many as Gwen – and often enough, Ianto had made it his personal mission to kiss each and every one; it was always very endearing. Still, if Ianto were to try the same for Gwen they’d be here for a very long time indeed.

Jack met Rhys’s eyes, shuffling forwards on his knees to pull Ianto back into his arms, kissing him over his shoulder and pulling him back so that Jack’s hard cock was nestled gently against the base of Ianto’s spine; Ianto reached back up over his shoulder briefly, to twist his fingers in Jack’s hair and kiss him hard, but he still seemed intent on Gwen, who was watching this with wide-eyed hunger.

But Ianto seemed to have other ideas; he drew himself away from Jack too soon, with that slight smirk that always sent a bolt of pure arousal straight through Jack, and leaned forward, kissing the skin of Gwen’s bump where she lay with her thighs up and parted. A moment later Jack realised what Ianto was doing as he kissed down the fine trickle of downy hair that led down from her bellybutton, to meet the darker curls below. Gwen whimpered, parting her legs further and canting her hips up as far as they would go to give him better access.

This, though, left Ianto’s arse facing Jack, pretty and enticing. He was absolutely sure that Ianto had done that on purpose. He smiled, leaning down to start licking at Ianto’s hole, rewarded with feeling him twitch against his mouth, making a soft sound with his mouth against Gwen’s cunt and making her groan in tandem. But then, when he flicked his eyes up, he saw Rhys, wide-eyed with lust as he watched the three of them, palming his cock and looking a little forlorn and left out.

Well, they couldn’t be having that now. All at once, Jack had an idea and smiled, beckoning Rhys closer. Rhys came, their eyes meeting as Jack pulled him into another kiss, taking Rhys’s cock in hand and adding a little twist just so, rewarded by Rhys’s gasp against his lips.

Smirking, Jack took the opportunity of Rhys’s distraction to take his hand and place it against Ianto’s arse beside them, guiding his hand to trace the firm muscle of his upper thigh, with its slight softness that Jack loved so well.

Rhys gasped slightly against him, but didn’t draw back; Jack did, looking back at him. At the same time, Ianto rose up again, lifting his head up from between Gwen’s thighs – and _oh_ , his lips and chin were _glistening_ with the wetness of her, and Jack wanted a taste too, later – and met Jack’s eye, flicking across to Rhys then back to Jack. Jack raised his eyebrows; Ianto knew him well enough now that he had clearly understood exactly what Jack intended, and answered back with a nod and a knowing smirk, pushing his arse back against them both and dropping his head as Gwen, impatient, threaded her fingers through his hair again.

In the wake of this quick, wordless conversation, Jack looked over at Rhys, who was kneeling there looking a little overwhelmed. Jack caught his chin, soothing and quieting. “If it’s too much...”

“No!” Rhys said, voice rather hollow, cracking with lust. “Not too much at all. I want...” he shifted his hand on Ianto’s hip, pulling him closer as though contemplating possibilities.

Jack chuckled. “You want to fuck Ianto?”

Rhys’s eyes were huge, as he swallowed. “Mmm. Yeah. Yeah, I think that would be… good.”

Jack had to agree, and he was resisting the urge to laugh at Rhys’s rather poleaxed look. He wondered how long Rhys had been secretly nursing his attraction to Ianto, and resolved to save the affectionate but merciless teasing for later; right now they had other priorities. Specifically, making sure this was enjoyable for all concerned.

“Ever fucked a man before?” he asked.

Rhys shook his head, turning even redder. “I know the basic, uh, mechanics… but I dunno exactly how to make it feel best for him.”

“Just get on and do _something_ ,” Jack heard Ianto grind out, before turning his attention back to Gwen. “Jack’ll show you.”

“Oh, Rhys, I’m sure you’ll be wonderful,” piped up Gwen, who had been watching them for the last few minutes Jack realised. She bit back a cry at something Ianto was doing, twisting her hand in his hair again.

“Don’t worry,” said Jack, winking. “I’ll be with you all the way.”

In the time it took Jack to lean sideways to get the bottle of lube from the side-table, and condoms from one of the drawers – he had to rummage, but they had some – there was a cry from Gwen as she came, reaching up to grab the headboard of the bed and bucking up against Ianto’s face. His chuckle was muffled by her thighs as he brought one of her legs up over his shoulder, leaving the other with her heel braced against the bed to give him more space; it was already hard to manage, but Ianto seemed to be taking it in his stride. Though, as Jack came back with the lube, he noticed that Ianto’s cock was angry red and looked painfully hard where it hung hard below his stomach.

Still, all in good time, he thought, laying a hand against Ianto’s hip and coming back to Rhys who was stroking himself and looking on in nervous fascination.

Jack leaned down for a moment to lick Ianto’s arse in a consiliatory fashion; _sorry to leave you so long_. But before Ianto could really get much from it – much as he tried to grind back against Jack’s mouth – Jack straightened up again, squeezing out some lube and handing beginning to rub it around Ianto’s hole. “Like this,” he said, offering his hand to Rhys with a smirk.

Rhys copied him diligently, squeezing some of the lube onto his own fingers, slipping his finger inside Ianto’s rim along with Jack’s. The two of them were joined within the hot squeeze of Ianto’s flesh as he tried to buck and grind back against them, growling softly against Gwen’s cunt; Gwen was still watching every second of this even as Ianto ate her out, her hair sweaty and sticking to her face, her mouth half open.

Jack went back to what he was doing, helping show Rhys how to gently, slowly work Ianto open, squeezing out more lube whenever they needed it. At one point, Rhys pushed a bit too hard, making Ianto flinch a little, but Jack was quick to soothe him. And Rhys, it turned out, was indeed a quick learner. It wasn’t long before Jack judged that Ianto was ready – and in fact Ianto was clearly impatient, pushing back against their fingers in his arse, eager to be fucked – and he smiled, meeting Rhys’s eye and offering him one of the condoms. Not necessary in this case, Jack happened to know, but it was just good etiquette for a first time regardless; Jack wanted to do this _right_. Rhys ripped open the packet and rolled it over his cock, and when he was done Jack helped by slicking him up a little more and helping Rhys position himself in line with Ianto’s hole. Rhys hesitated slightly.

“Ianto… you, uh, okay if I...” Rhys said.  
“ _Yep_ ,” said Ianto, voice abrupt and cracking with arousal; if he’d had hands free that weren’t holding Gwen’s legs or holding him up, Jack knew Ianto would be touching himself.

“You heard him,” said Jack, grinning. This was going to be fun to watch.

Sure enough, he felt his own cock stiffen as Rhys pushed inside Ianto, grunting as he sheathed himself in him. Ianto bucked, bringing his head up from Gwen for a moment, and Jack finally gave in and put his hand on Ianto’s cock, hot and hard in his slicked-up fingers.

“That’s it,” said Jack, his other hand going to his own cock and his balls as he worked both him and Ianto in time. He reached over to Rhys, placing a hand on his back and shifting him slightly where he was thrusting into Ianto. “If you just...”

He was rewarded by a growl of lust from Ianto, as under Jack’s hands, Rhys caught him at the angle Jack knew always made Ianto go to pieces.

Jack grinned, making Ianto gasp all over again as he worked his cock, letting Rhys go; Rhys seemed to be taking to it quickly, thrusting into Ianto as though he’d been doing it for ages. The sight of Rhys’s cock plunging in and out of the man Jack loved with all his being was such an erotic one that it was all Jack could do not to come there and then; the sounds Gwen was making didn’t help either, as she brought her leg down from Ianto’s shoulder, shuffling upwards to try to reach up and kiss Rhys over Ianto’s back. But the angle was all wrong so they really only managed a clumsy brush of lips as Rhys thrust forward and then drew back. The next time, their noses bumped together, making Gwen laugh so hard Jack saw tears in her eyes.

Jack grinned, charmed enough by this that he leaned over Ianto and kissed Gwen himself, trusting that Rhys knew more or less what he was doing with Ianto now; Ianto certainly seemed to be enjoying it, anyway. But as he kissed Gwen she reached out and wrapped her fingers around his cock. The sensation of her grasping and stroking him took him enough by surprise that he didn’t have the presence of mind to hold back, and abruptly found himself coming in her hand, spilling over and onto her thigh.

Gwen grinned, looking triumphant and pleased as Jack pulsed against her side, then swallowed another moan as while he was in the very last aftershocks, Ianto raised his head and ran his tongue through Jack’s come on Gwen’s skin, lapping it off her with relish.

Jack gasped, leaning forward and kissing Ianto briefly – and he could taste Gwen on his lips, and his own come – before collapsing back to the pillows at her side, spent and content to watch as Ianto dropped his face back to Gwen, making her shudder and come again; Jack pulled her sideways against him, holding onto her and tucking her head tenderly under his chin as she came down from it.

At the same time, he heard Rhys’s voice, grunting out. “Ah, fuck… I’m going to…” he said, the tone of it setting off something in Jack’s stomach; next time, if there was one, he’d very much like to try fucking Rhys himself if it was on the table. _Ooh, on a table_. That sounded good too, he thought with a secret smirk.

Rhys was gritting his teeth. “Ianto, ah...”

Jack clutched Gwen close, the two of them watching avidly with Gwen half collapsing against Jack’s side in blissed-out joy.

“ _Yesss_...” Ianto ground out, rising up a bit on his knees and reaching a hand back to Rhys, lacing their fingers together.

Rhys gritted his teeth, arm going around Ianto’s chest and his face red as he thrust one last time into him, grasping his offered hand and squeezed it hard as he came. It was quite the sight; Gwen’s eyes were round as saucers beside him. But Jack only glanced at her before his eyes met Ianto’s, and he leaned forward at the very last moment on impulse, engulfing Ianto’s reddened cock in his mouth as Rhys clung on to his hips for dear life, fingers leaving red marks there.

Ianto’s hands were on Jack’s shoulders, grasping on for support there as he followed Rhys a moment later, coming deep down Jack’s throat.

When it was done, Ianto collapsed against him, boneless and heavy; Jack grasped him, holding him up as Rhys clung onto him from behind. Gwen had shuffled up on her knees beside Gwen and as Jack let go of Ianto’s softening cock from his mouth – pausing to press a tender kiss to the base of it before he moved back – he turned to find Gwen kissing him too.

Jack surfaced from the kiss in a blissful haze, as Ianto collapsed backwards on the bed. He was vaguely aware of Rhys pulling off the condom, tying it off and dropping it in the bin, before coming back to sit beside Jack and stroking tender fingers through Ianto’s hair.

For a long moment, then, they all stared at each other, reality suddenly pressing close for a moment; there they all were, sweaty and dishevelled and sticky, and maybe nothing would be the same again.

“Well,” said Gwen, eyes flashing with laughter as she looked around at all of them, offering Rhys her hand and pulling him to her chest. “That was fun.”

“That _was_ fun,” agreed Ianto, sitting up and wincing at the stickiness. He leaned over to kiss Rhys, then to kiss Gwen, then finally back to Jack, settling back in his arms. “We should do that again sometime.”

“No time like the present,” said Gwen, then laughed, eyes landing on Jack. “Except for mister ordinary mortal forty-something over there, we have to assume with an ordinary mortal forty-something refractory period.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Rhys snorted. “Does it work like that?”

“I dunno,” said Gwen. “Maybe? We should do a scientific test, time it. ...Oh, Ianto, that reminds me! I’ve still got your stopwatch to give you back. I stole it from your flat while you were dead.”

“Oh. Um, thank you?”

Jack was making an offended face. “ _Forty_ -something?”

“Yes, yes, we know you’re much older than that,” said Ianto, patting his arm with a glitter of humour in his eyes. “Though, physically...”

“I am _not_ forty-something!” grumbled Jack.

“Really? How old are you, in normal human years then?” asked Gwen, sounding genuinely curious.

“I don’t know,” he said, trying to maintain some shred of dignity. “Time travel, different calendars, and immortality kinda made me lose count.”

Gwen snorted, grasping his hand and pulling him close in beside the three of them, kissing his sweaty temple affectionately. “If you say so, old man.”

Jack pouted, but really he didn’t mind their teasing; he was content to listen as Ianto got up to get something to try to clean them off, while Gwen and Rhys kissed and began to speculate about certain physical attributes of men in their twenties.

Jack was still smiling as Ianto came back, muttering in feigned annoyance as he realised they were talking about him behind his back, while gently helping Gwen shift so she was more comfortable and Rhys with getting the mess off the sheets, everyone exchanging kisses now and then as they went.

Maybe nothing would be the same again. But, Jack realised a moment later, maybe that was no bad thing. He’d learned well enough, hadn’t he, that change was a good thing; if things stayed the same forever, they’d grow unbearable before too long.

And besides, he thought as he smiled at these three people he loved so much he thought his heart might burst, he had the notion that this change was going to be a good one.

* * *

Later, after they’d got cleaned up – and there was a lot of cleaning up to do – and changed the bandages on Jack’s hand for the night, they lay curled up together in bed in pyjamas, the duvet pulled up close against the still-cool air of an early spring night. Outside the window, Jack could hear the sounds of a storm blowing in, wind hurling rain against the outside of the glass.

Inside, though, it was very warm in their bed, the four of them having managed to find a comfortable position to all snuggle together. Gwen was curled up on her side with her head pillowed on Jack’s shoulder, Rhys at her back as always with his arm slung across her waist protectively. On Jack’s other shoulder, Ianto took his usual place, except now his hand was loosely clutching Gwen’s across Jack’s chest, the two of their foreheads almost meeting in the middle. It was a good position, Jack thought; he didn’t have to stretch down far to kiss them both on their foreheads. But then again, Rhys might feel left out; well, if he did he was welcome to come closer and get his forehead kisses from Jack himself, but for the moment he seemed content just to hold onto Gwen, just the way they were.

“You know what,” said Rhys, surprising them all; none of them were asleep, but they were all on the edge of it, in the peaceful place between sleep and waking. “Since there’s the four of us, and there’s going to be five soon, I was thinking… maybe we should find a bigger house.”

Jack peered up at him, making eye contact with Ianto, a whole wordless conversation passing between them in the intervening half-second.

“...That’s if you two want to stay!” said Gwen hastily. “I mean. Obviously, you don’t _have_ to of course, but if you _wanted_ to–”

“Gwen.” This was Ianto’s voice, and Jack was more grateful to him than he knew how to say, as he squeezed Gwen’s hand, just over the place where Jack’s heart was. “We want to stay. And yes, I think a bigger house would be a good idea.”

Jack felt Gwen relax against his side. Jack felt a twist of guilt; he knew that Gwen was still hurting from when he’d left her all alone with her grief, with only Rhys to get her through. For all Rhys was, he wasn’t Torchwood, he didn’t know all of what Gwen had lost. Jack knew he should have been there, or at least should have sent word to her before he left. Still. There’d be time to correct that wrong, Jack thought, as he brought his hand up to stroke through the back of Ianto’s hair, listening to the storm that raged outside.

Beside him, he felt the gentle sensation as the baby shifted and kicked within Gwen. She laughed softly, giving Ianto’s hand a squeeze and shifting to let Rhys lean over her in delighted fascination. “Well, there’s another vote in favour.”

“Maybe we could live somewhere near the coast?” offered Rhys. “It’s hard, trying to hide in the city, but I know there are loads of beaches where the tourists don’t go. Might be a nice place for a kid to grow up...”

 _An_ _d_ _it would be_ _safe_ , he didn’t add, though Jack knew they were all thinking it.

“Yeah,” said Jack, slowly, thinking back to his childhood. “You know, I always liked the seaside.”

“Good,” said Rhys. “Well, tomorrow we can start looking.” And with that he cuddled Gwen close, reaching across her to take hold of Ianto’s hand alongside Gwen’s, across Jack’s chest. “Now, go to sleep you lot. God knows, we’ll have few enough chances before the baby comes.”

Jack felt Ianto sigh, and laughed, clutching him close.

Yes, Jack thought. Things may change, but sometimes they stayed the same. And either way, there’d be time.

Really, that was all they could hope for.

* * *

_**[Epilogue – several months later]** _

Ianto was sitting on the sofa watching the news, Gwen lying with her head and shoulders in his lap and Jack’s coat draped across her shoulders her like a blanket, Ianto’s hands mechanically stroking their way through her hair, when it happened.

Ianto had rather lost focus on the TV some time ago; even now he always tried to keep an eye out for any stories that might be alien, or strange, or… well. Torchwood-y. It was a habit that was not easy to break. But today it was just more of Huw Edwards reiterating the election results (Ianto was glad that at least it wasn’t his job to deal with elected officials anymore, because this new lot sounded like a nightmare. Which was saying something, he supposed, when the last government had been partially responsible for his death), and the warm breeze of a sunny late-May morning was drifting in through the open window and stirring the curtains. Thus, Ianto had stopped paying attention a little while ago to daydream, Jack and Rhys’s voices and the sound of the washing machine filtering through from the kitchen in a calming, familiar background.

He ran his fingers through Gwen’s hair again, as she shifted and fidgeted, trying to get comfortable; the baby was taking its time, and Gwen was a few days past her due date now. No cause for concern yet, Gwen’s doctor (and their salvaged Torchwood medical tech) had confirmed. But the waiting had Gwen on edge regardless, Ianto knew, not to mention perpetually tired, achey and uncomfortable.

Still, they all tried to do what they could to make life easier for her. The new house Jack had bought them (quicker than Ianto had believed was possible) helped; if over a century’s worth of Torchwood salary was good for anything, it was getting them to a place where they had enough space, a largely deserted stretch of wind-swept Welsh coastline outside, a cosy fireplace – Jack had made a lot of joking suggestions about chopping wood shirtless, which Ianto fully intended to hold him to – and a good kitchen. By the front path there was the vegetable patch they’d planted just last week, and a chicken coop which they hadn’t yet filled with chickens but Rhys had vague ideas to, except Gwen thought they’d get sick of eating eggs all the time. There was a room for the baby all ready and waiting upstairs, as well as a very large and very comfortable bed.

Two beds, actually; about half the time they all slept together, but there were nuances to the odd little four-person balance they were still working out. They had two bedrooms and sometimes they slept separately – four people trying to get to sleep all together was not always the easiest when one had spent decades accustomed to barely sleeping and was having a hard time acclimatising to more normal human circadian rhythms, one was heavily pregnant, and all four regularly woke shouting and trembling from nightmares.

Jack and Gwen, as they always had been, were wont to argue, their personalities butting heads no matter how much they might love one another; Ianto didn’t know why he’d assumed that would stop, just because of everything that happened. But what was true, was that they were getting better at patching things up in the wake of their arguments. They all were; it came from knowing each other so well, of learning the ways these people’s minds and hearts worked and making compromises, putting in the effort.

Sometimes, they needed to be separate. But equally, sometimes they needed to all be together, holding each other and staying close. They were taking the days as they came.

And somehow, they were managing.

In the days and weeks after that first joyous, exploratory night, they’d all slept together a few more times; they hadn’t all been together since Gwen had hit the point in her pregnancy when she hadn’t wanted to anymore. After that she’d mostly just wanted to be held gently, or else some days not touched at all. For his own part Ianto still slept with Jack as much as usual though, and now and then Rhys joined them, or one or the other of them; after that first night, Rhys had learned fast and Ianto took great pleasure in showing him. But he did miss the four of them together; he hoped they’d be able to go back to it at some point after the baby was born. Though of course then they’d have an even greater responsibility to think of, the weight of their impending, shared parenthood.

 _Parenthood_ ; now that was a concept that terrified Ianto as much as it was coming to intrigue him. When he’d been with Lisa, the idea of being a parent had seemed like a vague – but distant – inevitability. There was no rush, but it was what people did, wasn’t it? Got married, had a kid or two, bought a nice house in the suburbs and lived a normal life. That had been his first mistake; Torchwood didn’t do normal, and whatever you planned for would probably not end up panning out quite the way you expected. Even when he had just been with Jack, the team and the Hub, he’d had expectations of a sort; he hadn’t thought of family then – or not in any kind of a realistic way – because he’d been fully expecting to die before the age of thirty, had even found a kind of peace with it if it was to keep the world safe. As long as Jack wasn’t left too broken by it.

But even that had not gone as expected. Because then Ianto _had_ died, and it had changed his perspective. And now here he was, about to turn twenty-seven, retired from Torchwood and very soon to become fourth co-parent to his best friends’ and sometimes-lovers’ child. Not that Ianto minded, but it was quite a lot to get his head around.

Because this – whatever this was – wasn’t what Ianto had expected, if he’d expected anything at all. It wasn’t a subsuming of their existing relationships into one; there was still _Gwen-and-Rhys,_ and _Jack-and-Ianto,_ as distinct entities. But now there was also _Gwen-and-Jack-and-Rhys-and-Ianto_ , and all other combinations thereof.

But for all that it rather defied explanation, Ianto wouldn’t have this any other way.

He sighed, dropping his hand to rub Gwen’s lower back as she shifted in obvious discomfort; that helped her sometimes, if only to let her know he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Sure enough, she smiled and pressed a kiss against his knee, settling down slightly in a new position.

Jack and Rhys had just started making lunch – cutting up vegetables for some kind of stew, and there’d been some debate over parsnips and carrots, complete with a predictable amount of vegetable-based innuendos from Jack – and had banned the two of them from the kitchen. This was reasonable, in Ianto’s estimation; neither he nor Gwen had ever got very far with learning to cook, though with the baby on the way they’d both been trying to improve, not to mention learn to make things that were at least vaguely healthy to feed to a growing child.

Still, Ianto was thinking, the sound of the TV filtering into the background of his awareness, it would be a while until they needed to do that. A few years? Actually, he had to admit he didn’t really know exactly how long it took human children to graduate from milk, to mashed vegetables, to steak and chips with a chocolate sundae for desert.

He was just making a mental note to research that in detail, when he felt Gwen go tense in his lap.

Immediately, Ianto was on alert as she grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers. “What?” he said, apprehensively. “Gwen? Are you… is the baby–”

“Nnnn,” said Gwen, grimacing as he helped her sit up. “Ugh, I think my waters just broke...”

“Oh. _Oh_. God, um, okay,” said Ianto, trying not to panic as he helped Gwen sit up. “Jack! Rhys!” he yelled, pressing a few quick kisses to Gwen’s forehead; it was like that between the four of them now, affection freely given and taken as comfort by unspoken agreement.

They both appeared in the doorway, almost before Ianto had finished calling for them, wide-eyed and worried looking as the exchanged a look.

“What? What is it?” said Rhys.

“The baby,” said Gwen, wincing and letting Ianto help her to her feet. “I... hmm. I think it’s the baby.”

“Aw, bloody finally!” said Rhys with a nervous smile, pulling Gwen into his arms as Ianto picked up Jack’s coat where it had slipped to the floor and helped him on with it. “Let’s get going then, eh? I’ll get the car started, you two get the bags from the hall. We’ll be out there in no time…” he kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry, everything’s gonna be fine.”

Rhys was good like that, Ianto had found; when he reassured you, it was easy to believe him. He was usually right about things like that.

“Yeah,” said Jack, a slightly manic grin on his face, one hand on Gwen’s back as Rhys bustled her out the room, the other taking hold of Ianto’s fingers and giving him a tug along the hallway. As they were leaving, he paused for a moment, meeting his eye. “You ready for this?”

“Yeah,” said Ianto, meeting Jack’s gaze with a smile. “I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you to CJ (someawkwardprose), Vi (violetmessages) and Nik (princessoftheworlds) for encouraging me to actually write the horny poly fic... I definitely incorporated some ideas from our conversations and I hope I did them justice!  
> \- I love you guys but also I am never writing a foursome again, oh my god the _logistics_  
>  \- Having never been pregnant myself, I hope my research about what works/feels good (in terms of sex stuff) while at this stage of pregnancy is at least vaguely accurate.... apologies if anything is glaringly wrong but like I said, never been pregnant myself.  
> \- I have more fics planned in this AU! Probably more Gen fics, but yeah, I am definitely not done with this series yet so stay tuned :)))  
> \- The title is from the song [You're No God](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DgtKxyYSnvU) by Laura Marling, which I definitely associate with mortal!Jack, specifically this scenario.  
> \- Come say hi on tumblr @ultraviolet-eucatastrophe!


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